


Bait [Inktober 2019]

by california_112



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Gen, Inktober, Inktober 2019, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Night, Robbery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 12:28:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20874209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/california_112/pseuds/california_112
Summary: Just as Thursday was about to get out, Jakes stopped him with a whispered "Sir!", and pointed to a slightly darker patch of shadow moving silently down the street. It soon became clear that it was aiming for the jewellery shop."That must be Dunstable!" Thursday whispered, cursing his letting Morse go in on his own. "Pray God that Morse doesn't come out now…"-or-The trio are staked out waiting for a robbery, but even after hours of planning, not everything goes right.ABSOLUTELY 0% SPOILERS FOR ANYTHINGThis is for Inktober 2019 - Thursday 3rd, Bait.





	Bait [Inktober 2019]

Near on ten pm, a lone brown Hillman sat parked in Pusey Street, north Oxford. No lights shone from within, but there were three occupants, their eyes trained on the façade of Deeley's Jewellers. They were waiting for a serial jewellery shop robber, Jimmy Dunstable, to hopefully turn up and rob the place so they could catch him in the act, and end his most recent wave of crime. A solitary parked Hillman in an otherwise empty street wasn't exactly subtle, but they hoped it would work.

As the hours rolled by the trio remained silent, sipping half-cold coffee from a shared thermos and wondering vaguely if all this was really worth it. Early October was not the best time to be staked out in a car at night, their breath not even fugging up the windows because everything was so cold. At half past ten, a voice spoke up from the passenger seat.

"I think we've got the wrong place." Detective Sergeant Jakes pulled his coat slightly tighter around him, fingers itching for the packet of cigarettes in his pocket. "All of Dunstable's hits have been in the south, why would he come up here?"

"He knows we're onto him." The thin face of Detective Constable Morse leaned forward out of the back-seat gloom to sit between his two colleagues. "if he thinks we're looking for him in the south, we'll actually be looking for him in the north."

"Why this shop though?" Jakes asked. "There must be plenty of other jewellers up here."

"Not many with notoriously bad security." Detective Inspector Thursday joined the conversation, resisting the urge to tap his pipe on the dashboard. "If he was going to move north, this would be his first hit."

The car fell silent again, Morse's face sinking back into the darkness, and Jakes' sullen silence filling the atmosphere. Even though he didn't share his thoughts, Morse also thought that there was a very slim chance of Dunstable would hit this shop. He was the kind of robber who'd brushed with the police before, and most likely knew that they would be waiting up here. They were probably missing another armed raid down in Central Oxford right-

All three officers looked up sharply as the sound of a crash echoed around the street.

"Did that come from where I think it came from?" Inspector Thursday asked, on the alert and half-reaching for the radio.

"I'll go and check." Morse said, opening the door and stepping into the road. "See if it was Dunstable."

"Morse, don't-"

"I'll just take a look, see if it was him."

"We should radio for backup first." Jakes twisted his neck to look back at Morse, but made no move to get up. "He's been armed before, remember."

"I'll only be a minute…"

Without waiting for any other arguments, Morse closed the door and walked across the street quite unconcerned, stopping outside the jeweller’s shop. He looked briefly through the window, then took out the keys that the owner had given them and unlocked the door. Morse slipped inside, and the door closed behind him, blind rattling on the frame. The street returned to how it had been before.

Jakes sighed and turned back around, staring ahead of them.

"How long are we giving it, sir?"

"Five minute then I'm going in." Thursday replied, anxiety in his tone. "If he's not out before then, Dunstable must be in there with him."

Both men now on edge, they watched the shop door for the reappearance of their colleague, but the blinds didn't even twitch. Just as Thursday was about to get out, Jakes stopped him with a whispered "Sir!", and pointed to a slightly darker patch of shadow moving silently down the street. It soon became clear that it was aiming for the jewellery shop.

"That must be Dunstable!" Thursday whispered, cursing his letting Morse go in on his own. "Pray God that Morse doesn't come out now…"

Watching in silent tension, the shadow of Dunstable moved to the door of the shop, and bent down next to the lock. As he leant in towards the handle, the door started opening under his weight, and he leapt back a little in surprise, before stepping through and closing it behind him. The blind rattled on the doorframe, and the street was silent once again.

* * *

When Morse got out of the car to investigate the noise, it was mostly because he didn't want to sit down anymore, and only partially to see if it was Dunstable. It seemed much more likely that it was just a cat pushing over a bin than Dunstable entering from the back- mostly because in all of the previous robberies he had picked the front door lock and gone in that way. Peering in through the front window, he saw nothing amiss, and dug out the keys that the shopkeeper had lent them when they were planning the ambush. The door opened effortlessly, and he slipped into the darkness within, the blind clattering on the frame as the door swung shut.

Taking out his torch, he navigated through to the back door, and unlocked that too, the door sticking in the jam from disuse. Checking the alley, it was as he had initially suspected: a large tabby cat was picking itself up from a pile of rubbish, and the metal trash can was some way down the alley from its abandoned lid. Shaking his head in incredulous annoyance, he closed and locked the door, slamming it as quietly as possible to close it, and went back to the front.

However, just as he reached the gap in the counter, the door creaked open slowly, and a shaft of weak moonlight slanted to the floor. A slither of a crouching figure was shown, and Morse ducked behind the counter quickly, trying to slow his breath. He could only listen as footsteps tapped in quickly, the door shut, and the blind rattled on the frame.

It was definitely Dunstable- this was exactly his style, Morse thought, hearing the muffled clinking of a gun butt breaking a glass cabinet covered in cloth. As precious necklaces and watches were heard dropping into the leather holdall they had seized so many times before, with so painfully little evidence to keep it and its owner locked up, Morse considered the actions available to him. Thursday and Jakes should have seen Dunstable come in if they'd been watching properly, so they would hopefully bring backup when they-

"Oi! What're you doin' 'ere?"

A lance of light stabbed Morse's eyes as a hand grabbed his hair, hauling him upright. Whilst he'd been pondering the problem of how to escape, Dunstable had worked his way around to him, and this was the result.

"I said, what're you doin' 'ere!" Dunstable asked, torch almost in Morse's eye.

"I'm…a cleaner!" Morse lied in an abnormally high voice, swiftly trying to take stock of the situation.

"In that suit? You're no cleaner." Morse was pulled further forwards, the jewellery cabinet between himself and Dunstable slicing across his hips. "'oo are you?"

At that moment, Morse caught a quick glance over Dunstable's shoulder, and thought he saw bobbing shadows outside the door. He decided that it was time to play his trump card.

"I'm a police officer, don't make it worse for yourself-" he cut off as Dunstable suddenly released his hair and pulled a gun from an inside pocket, and Morse's voice continued an octave higher, hands flying out defensively, "-don’t, don’t!"

"'Make it worse for myself' you little- nothing could make this worse for me." Dunstable replied, voice dangerously calm. "Certainly not you." he continued, levelling the gun.

Eyes wide, Morse looked straight at Dunstable, imploring him not to do what he was clearly considering. Almost before he had time to think, two crashes rang out in quick succession, and the room went black.

* * *

"That's it, I'm going in." After seeing Dunstable enter the shop, Thursday almost leapt from the car and started moving around the bonnet, Jakes copying him, albeit a little slower. "You call for backup." the Inspector shot at Jakes, before striding across the road and over to the shop.

Even from a few steps away, Thursday could see a shadow from Dunstable's torch; a silhouette doing the place over, using the usual trick of placing a piece of cloth over the glass before smashing it to muffle the sound. As the Inspector carefully peered through the window, he couldn't see Morse anywhere, but was reluctant to burst in on the raid in case that would put his bagman in a more perilous position than he was already in. However, just as Jakes joined him on the pavement, with a whisper of 'Reinforcements on their way, sir', Dunstable lunged over the counter he had been working on and pulled up someone by their sandy red hair- Morse, looking absolutely terrified in the torchlight.

"This is us, sergeant!" Thursday growled, and strode to the door.

He could hear Morse attempting to reason with the jewellery thief, but it clearly wasn't going to work. This man had already left two people dead, a cleaner and a night watchman, and Thursday wouldn't allow Morse to be added to the list. Without further hesitation, Thursday's shoulder connected with the door jam and he fell in, colliding with a body, and surprised at how easily it opened. At the same time, he heard a shot go off close by, and instinctively ducked, but still kept his mind on the case.

"James Dunstable, you're under arrest!" he roared, bringing his head up to probe the darkness around him. "Jakes, a light!"

The thin beam of the sergeant's pocket torch swivelled around the room, and revealed the scene clearly. Thursday had reeled into Dunstable's back as he opened the door, pushing him into the counter. He was slumped across it, out cold, one hand clutching at a gun, the other the shattered remains of a torch. On the other side of the counter, Morse was frozen to the wall, eyes wide. Thursday saw a hole in the wall inches from his left temple, and realised what must have been about to happen. He had been just in time.

"Morse?" As the constable breathed deeply, struggling to regain his composure, the sound of police sirens filled the silence between them. "You alright?" Thursday began picking his way around Dunstable's still form to the other side of the counter.

"I- he…surprised me." Morse replied, finally detaching himself from the wall and moving away from it shakily. "Came in when I was about to leave."

"We saw, and came right over." Thursday soothed. "We were just in time."

"Too right." Morse replied warmly, nodding.

They were silent for a moment as the backup PCs removed the still-unconscious body of Dunstable to a hastily summoned ambulance, then moved outside with the stretcher as some other constables worked on clearing up and securing the shop. Thursday turned to Morse, and spoke softly.

"Are you sure you're alright? That bullet missed you by inches."

"I though he got me, that's why I couldn't move." Morse said, with a suggestion of an ill-fitting laugh. "It wore off though." he added unnecessarily, and the two of them lapsed into silence again.

"Well, Win'll be expecting me back home soon enough, I told her not to wait up but she'll probably warm something through for me." Thursday said, groping for his pipe. "I'm sure she'd do something for you, if you asked…"

"I'm fine, sir, really." Morse said, a smile grabbing his lip for a second. "I got something in at my flat for when I got back."

"If you're sure." Thursday started to turn away, paused, then turned back. "Night."

"Goodnight, sir."

The two officers split away from the crime scene, vanishing into their parts of the night, both trying to process what had happened that evening. One more robber held to justice, one more bullet dodged.

**Author's Note:**

> that ending was Weak im sorry but anyway
> 
> @TheEndeavourFandom: I live! It's been a whole year, and I really wanted to write more over the summer, but everything caught up with me and I couldn't make time :'/. However, I'm doing four of five pieces for Inktober, even though I don't think I'll be able to manage a Christmas piece this year D:. Anyway, thanks for reading!


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